


Red Right Hand

by VampirePam



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Battle, Choices, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Paris (City), Redemption, Romance, Sacrifice, Tests, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-07
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePam/pseuds/VampirePam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus thought he chose Stefan as his companion because he wanted a brutal killer. But when they must join forces to fight off a more powerful enemy, Klaus is shocked to discover that what he may actually have been looking for was someone to save him from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're A Criminal As Long as You're Mine

The blonde had been staring at Stefan all night, dancing with many different partners, male and female, but keeping her eyes securely on him. Consequently, it surprised neither of them when she wound her way through the crowd to sidle up to him and murmur, “Bon soir, cheri.”

Stefan said nothing and gave her only a fleeting glance before returning his attention to his drink.

“Non parlez-vous francais, cheri?” she continued, not giving up, “That is all right - I speak some English.”

“Stefan, what a pretty little bird you’ve captured,” Klaus exclaimed appreciatively, gliding effortlessly toward them from his perch at the bar. “Comment allez-vous, ma petite?”

“Dominique Renault,” she whispered conspiratorially to Klaus, following it up with a little giggle.

“Un nom tres jolie,” he said gallantly, raising her hand to his lips. “But you said you knew English, my pet?”

“A little,” she replied, her words only slightly obscured by her accent. “I find that it allows me to meet interesting people.”

“Oh, then I think tonight is your lucky night, my dear,” Klaus said, placing his other hand on top of hers and looking deeply into her eyes. “For my friend and I have led terribly, terribly interesting lives. We’ve done things a pretty little girl like yourself could never even dream of.”

“I would love to hear about them. Perhaps over a drink at...your place?” she asked coyly.

Klaus rewarded her boldness with a smile, then turned to Stefan and said, “Oh, I think that could be arranged, don’t you Stefan?”

“This is your party, Klaus, do what you like,” Stefan said stiffly, putting his drink down on the bar.

“Ignore my friend’s rudeness, mon coeur,” Klaus said, turning back to Dominique, “He is pining for a girl who is far away.”

“How sad,” Dominique said, turning to Stefan and dragging her hand slowly down his chest. “Perhaps with a little work, I can make him forget her, at least for the evening.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” Klaus said seriously, taking Dominique by the hand and leading her out of the club, using his eyes to signal Stefan to follow.

With no light to guide them but the moon, the three wound their way through the serpentine back streets of Paris until they arrived at the faded red door of a dilapidated old house.

“This...is your place?” Dominique asked hesitantly, perhaps weighing for the first time the wiseness of her decision.

“Oh, don’t be frightened,” Klaus soothed her, “You’re perfectly safe as long as you’re with us.” Before it could occur to Dominique that perhaps Klaus was what she should be afraid of, he had opened the door, crossed the foyer, and beckoned her up the winding staircase, which years of disuse had rendered creaky and dust-covered.

“Don’t you find that there’s something terribly romantic about ruined splendor?” he murmured, never breaking eye contact with her. “It’s so atmospheric.”

“Yes....I suppose,” Dominique said, looking concernedly at the grand house around her as if it might fall down at any second.

When they reached the master bedroom, which was still in remarkably good condition, Klaus wound his left hand round Dominique’s neck and began kissing her, while using his right to untie the knot holding together the flimsy halter dress she had been wearing, which slipped quickly to the ground.

“Tell me, is your family Parisian, Dominique?” he asked as he moved to stand behind her, moving his fingers lightly and seductively over her hips and bending down to kiss her neck.

“Oui,” she murmured with a little smile, Klaus’s nearness distracting her from her earlier fears, “We have lived here for many generations. My grandmother used to say there had been Renaults in Paris since before the Revolution.”

“Then perhaps it will intrigue you to wonder,” Klaus said softly, “While you scream and beg for your life, whether it was some ancestor of yours who did the same when I was last here, all those centuries ago.”

A panicked and confused “Quoi?” was all Dominique got out before she started screaming at Klaus’s teeth sinking into her neck. She attempted to get away, but he quickly seized her wrists in an iron-like grip and continued to drink more and more of her blood. After about half a minute, Klaus brought his head up and let out an appreciative laugh, blood dripping from his bared fangs.

“Stefan, you must try this,” he pronounced, “The highest quality French fare I’ve had since we got here. Even better than that Algerian exchange student, and she was delectable.”

Dominique took this opportunity to look deeply into Stefan’s eyes and plead with him, “Please, monsieur, please. Help me.”

Stefan stared at her for a few moments, his eyes filled with pain, then walked slowly toward her and took her face in his hands, taking care to hold her gaze.

“You are in a calm, happy place,” he said quietly, “You feel no pain. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” she repeated monotonously after him, her body relaxing as her struggles ceased.

“Have you been listening at all this past month, Stefan?” Klaus asked exasperatedly. “How many times must I tell you? - a real ripper enjoys the hunt. You still have much to learn. As punishment, you must completely drain her yourself.”

He threw the now docile Dominique toward Stefan, who caught her and, after staring at Klaus for a moment, released his fangs and sank them into her neck. Once the first taste of her blood hit his lips, he knew he could not have stopped, even without Klaus’s command. As Stefan dug his fangs deeper and deeper into Dominique’s neck, sucking out her blood greedily, desperately, Klaus sat on the bed opposite him, eyes never leaving Stefan, mouth arranged in a cruelly amused smile.

When Dominique was dead and her body completely devoid of blood, Stefan let her drop to the floor and, shooting a look of hatred at Klaus, stalked into the bathroom to wash off the blood that was now covering his face and chest.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Klaus called after him, “Like I’m the bad, bad man and you’re the innocent victim. This isn’t they way I planned it either, you know; I wanted a wingman, a real right hand, not a sullen hostage.”

“Well, what did you expect, Klaus?” Stefan said angrily, returning to the bedroom. “You blackmailed me into leaving my home, not to mention the girl I love, my brother, my friends, just to follow you around to a series of hole-in-the-wall clubs to feed on pathetic human girls who have no idea what they’re getting into.”

“I expected you to live up to your part of the bargain.” Klaus said sternly.

“You traded me Damon’s life for my companionship and obedience,” Stefan said coldly, “But me liking the things you make me do was never part of the agreement. You thought all it would take to revert my character was a little human blood, but I’m afraid I’m a little bit stronger than that.”

Klaus stood in silence for a few moments, appraising him, then changed tactics. “Come on Stefan,” he whispered, winding his way around him like a snake. “Don’t you ever get tired of it? Putting all that energy toward being so good all the time? Spending every waking moment with a little voice in your head saying, ‘Control yourself, Stefan,’ ‘Reign it in, Stefan,’ ‘Not too much now, Stefan,’

“If I don’t control myself, people die,” Stefan replied through gritted teeth, throwing a small glance at Dominique’s body.

“Oh yes, sainted Stefan, always so concerned with human life,” Klaus mocked. “But then again, that’s right, your soft spot for humans goes farther than that, doesn’t it? You have actually gone and convinced yourself you love one of them.”

“Don’t you dare say I don’t love Elena!” Stefan snapped.

“I’m sorry, of course you do,” said Klaus, his voice couched in mock remorse. “I forgot, you two were made for each other by tiny little angels, you would do anything to protect her, she thinks the sun rises and sets in your eyes, do stop me if it all gets too pathetically human!” Klaus’s whipped out the last few words as if they were weaponized before returning his voice to its deceptively calm timbre . “My God, Stefan, do you even remember any more?”

“Remember what?” Stefan asked, losing patience.

“Remember what it was like to be extraordinary,” Klaus replied. “To leave formerly great cities in burning ruins, to watch powerful men and women begging for their lives and hurling gold at your feet like you were some kind of god! I picked you for my companion because I’d heard stories of the damage you inflicted. ‘Stefan Salvatore’ they said, ‘A real ripper,’ they said to me. But you’re of no use to me like this. I might as well have taken the little blonde cheerleader with me - at least she’d know how to have a good time.”

“What more do you want from me?” Stefan shouted.

“I want you to stop pretending to be something other than what you are,” Klaus shouted back. “I want you to stand up and start acting like -”

“Oh, what,” Stefan asked mockingly, “A ‘real man’”

Klaus’ eyes gleamed as he replied, his voice dangerously soft, “Oh no, not a real man. A real vampire.” With that he was on Stefan in a flash, sinking his teeth into his neck.

Stefan shouted at the pain of the poisonous bite and pushed Klaus away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Klaus laughed, Stefan’s blood dripping from his mouth, and replied, “Showing you that a real vampire takes what he wants.”

Stefan sped over to loom over him. “And what if what I want is to hit you so hard your head comes flying off?”

Klaus smiled appreciatively and got out, “Then I guess you’d better-” before he was interrupted by Stefan throwing him into an antique armoire on the other side of the room.

Klaus’ previous laugh did not compare with the cackle he let out now, which was bordering on a howl, as he slowly picked himself up off the floor and said, “Now you’re getting it,” before knocking Stefan to the ground in a lightning-fast tackle. Stefan took the opportunity of Klaus’ proximity to sink his fangs into his forearm.

To his surprise, Klaus did not withdraw, but pressed his arm to Stefan’s mouth, urging him to drink more. Stefan did so, finding himself surprisingly unable to stop; Klaus’s blood was like nothing else he’d ever tasted before.

“You didn’t think curing werewolf bites was the only special property of my blood, did you?” Klaus asked, amused. “It has many other much more intriguing side effects: improved speed and strength, a feeling of invincibility...increased libido.”

After a split second, Stefan shoved Klaus off of him and said, “Well, then feeding it to me wasn’t very smart, was it?” In a flash, he had broken a chair in two and was flying at Klaus with a make-shift stake he had fashioned from it; Stefan’s increased speed meant that Klaus only just managed to turn his body so the weapon missed his heart and sank harmlessly into his shoulder instead.

Klaus let out a broken little laugh, which became a groan when Stefan drove the stake in deeper. He looked directly at Stefan and asked, “Come on, Stefan, what do you want? Tell me what you want.”

Stefan returned his gaze, eyes burning with blood lust, and hissed, “I want...to cause you pain,” before he removed the stake and drove it into Klaus’s stomach, causing him to buck against the wall Stefan was pressing him into.

“Then...take it,” Klaus panted out, never breaking eye contact with Stefan, even as Stefan let out a primal scream and withdrew the stake only to plunge it in again, over and over and over until he had exhausted himself.

“You want me to hurt, to ache,” Klaus whispered weakly, “You want to make me feel as helpless as I’ve made you feel. You want to control me completely. So do it.”

Stefan felt the anger he’d been building up toward Klaus over the past month well up inside him until it was all that was left - just a wave of heat coursing and burning inside him. But standing there, staring into Klaus’s eyes, body pressing him against the wall, something entirely unforseen happened.

By some strange, inexplicable alchemy, Stefan’s want to hurt Klaus became so large and overwhelming that it turned into pure want, and before he knew what he was doing, Stefan was crashing his lips down on Klaus’s.

The kiss was rough, angry, all-consuming; Stefan’s still bared fangs scraped along Klaus’s lips, drawing blood, the intoxicating flavor of which Stefan could taste in Klaus’s mouth. He didn’t pause for a second, but kept kissing him progressively more fiercely, darting his tongue in and out of Klaus’s mouth and using it to search for any remaining blood.

Klaus, for his part, had soon removed both their shirts at vampire speed, and was dragging his nails into Stefan’s back with such fervor that Stefan jerked his head up and let out a small hiss at the pain. Klaus took this opportunity to flip their positions on the wall as he tangled his fingers in Stefan’s hair and yanked so Stefan’s lips were once more pressed into his.

Soon they were hurtling themselves around the room, the kissing becoming as violent as their previous fight had been. Stefan had never experienced anything like this before; it was like they were tearing each other apart, bit by bit, before reassembling the pieces and starting again. Nothing seemed able to stop them - not the shards of glass that rained down when Klaus smashed Stefan into a seventeenth century mirror, or even the oak desk collapsing beneath them while Stefan was straddling Klaus on top of it.

But when Klaus tackled him to the floor, fangs scraping teasingly over Stefan’s neck, and Stefan turned his head to allow Klaus better access, he was horrified to find himself looking into Dominique’s eyes, gazing with the unfocused stare of the dead that nevertheless seemed to be directed straight at him. As her last words echoed jarringly in his head, “Please, monsieur, please. Help me,” he pushed Klaus away with an anguished yell.

Klaus hit the wall with a thud, and as he picked himself up from the floor, looked amusedly at Stefan and said, “My, Stefan, you are a tease.”

“What the hell did you do to me?” Stefan shouted, his whole body starting to shake, “A spell? A potion? Some kind of silent compulsion? Tell me, damn it!”

“I did nothing,” Klaus replied matter-of-factly, raising his hands elegantly in a gesture of blamelessness. “My rocky relationship with witches makes a spell or potion unlikely, and I can hardly have compelled you since you’ve been covertly taking vervane since the day I picked you up in Mystic Falls.”

Stefan’s eyes widened, and he started, “But how did you...?”

Klaus stared at him, eyes hard, and said, “I told you then, Stefan, and I’ll tell you again. I’ve been around for a very long time, and I rarely get played for a fool.”

“No, dear boy,” he continued, walking slowly toward Stefan, “I’m afraid you must accept that the simplest answer is the true one: what just happened between us happened because you wanted it to. You are going to have come to terms with the fact that the part of you which you’ve been trying so desperately to submerge beneath your noble intentions will no longer be ignored. That as much as you want to deny it, in your heart of hearts you know that, at your core, you are just...like...me.”

“I will never be like you!” Stefan said vehemently, “I will fight you every inch of the way, Klaus, and so help me, I will win.”

“It’s only been a month, and the strain of keeping up your shield of virtue is already proving too much,” Klaus said, amused, “How do you expect to last a decade?”

Stefan was too angry to do anything other than send him a look of pure hatred before storming out of the house and into the comforting darkness of the deserted, silent streets below. He would have sworn Klaus’s cold laughter followed him even after he was long out of earshot.


	2. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since that night, Klaus has been invading Stefan's dreams and memories. But when Stefan seeks assistance from a witch, he learns some dark and disturbing information about things bigger than him or Klaus.

The lamps burned brightly in the grand ballroom of the Salvatore mansion as dancers whirled round and round the floor, a constantly changing sea of color and movement. Stefan, feeling strangely out-of-place at the fancy party, watched them dispassionately from the doorway.

“Do you not feel like dancing this evening, Mr. Salvatore?” came a familiar voice in his ear that caused an involuntary shiver to dance up and down his spine.

He swallowed audibly and replied without turning around, “Though it is a lovely party, to be sure, Lord Niklaus, I must confess that my heart does not lie on the dance floor this evening.”

“It is of no matter,” murmured Klaus mischievously, “For I have something much more interesting for us to do.” He took Stefan’s hand in his and led him slowly around the corner and up the stairs. The lamps flared in the narrow stairwell, and Stefan watched in confused amazement as Klaus’s dimly lit form suddenly flickered and changed into that of Katherine Pierce, then back again just as quickly.

“Wait, this isn’t right,” Stefan said confusedly as they reached the top of the stairs and started toward his bedroom.

“Don’t be such a Puritan,” Klaus murmured, flicking open Stefan’s bow tie and tugging off his jacket.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Stefan started, “Katherine -”

“You wound me, Stefan,” Klaus said, his voice filled with mock hurt, “Am I not enough to occupy your thoughts for the evening?” He placed one hand on the side of Stefan’s face and began to lightly kiss the side of his neck, then slid his other hand down from Stefan’s cheek to remove the tie altogether and fiddle with the buttons on Stefan’s shirt.

“But I swear, it was Katherine at this party, not you,” Stefan insisted, fighting through the fog clouding his brain to try and recall it properly.

“Your mind plays tricks on you, Stefan,” Klaus murmured, “Pay no mind to the phantoms it conjures. You and I are flesh...and blood,” at which point he skimmed his fangs over the vein pulsing in Stefan’s neck, though drawing only a few drops of blood. “We are all that matters.”

Stefan’s head spun even faster, wiping his mind of any and all coherent thoughts, and his heartbeat began to race, until he could stand it no longer, at which point he placed his fingers beneath Klaus’s chin, tilting his head up to meet him in a kiss.

Klaus returned the kiss passionately, and the next thing Stefan knew, they were on his bed, Klaus straddling him and slowly removing his vest.

“Do you love me, Stefan?” Klaus asked, discarding the vest and unbuttoning Stefan’s starched dress shirt.

“You know I do,” Stefan answered earnestly, though he had the strange sensation of reading lines from a script.

“And would you die for me?” Klaus asked, now slowly slipping his hands under the shirt and running them tantalizingly over the bare chest beneath.

“Gladly,” Stefan swore as he reached down to take Klaus’s hands in his.

“Then would you trust me with your life?” Klaus asked, looking directly into Stefan’s eyes.

“Of course I would,” Stefan said sincerely, though the niggling feeling that something was off was still prodding a distant portion of his brain.

Klaus’s eyes turned red, and his fangs dropped once more from his mouth as he said, ‘Then trust that I do this so we can always be together,” before biting his own wrist and bring it to Stefan’s mouth. Stefan was surprised, but drank the blood at Klaus’s insistent urging. He had thought that drinking blood would be a truly disgusting experience, but this was...not pleasant, but not repulsive either.

When Klaus withdrew his wrist, “Klaus, what -” was all Stefan got out before Klaus was sinking his fangs into Stefan’s neck, which caused him to cry out in pain. Klaus linked his fingers through Stefan’s, and Stefan clung to his grip when the pain became more intense. The seconds passed, he felt his heartbeat slow as Klaus drained more and more of his blood, and finally Stefan could no longer keep his head upright, instead letting it loll to the side.

Through his now blurry vision, he could see the outline of a dark-haired woman staring curiously at him from across the room.

“Katherine?” he whispered, fighting to stay conscious.

Her form flickered then appeared closer to him, the shock apparent on her face as she asked, “Stefan, my God, what are you doing?”

“Elena?” he asked despairingly, shame filling him. He tried to push Klaus away, but his limbs no longer obeyed him, and the last thing he saw before everything was plunged into darkness was the horrified expression on Elena’s face as she whispered, “Why, Stefan, why?”

Stefan bolted upright in bed, shaking all over. He instinctively raised a hand to his chest before remembering there wasn’t supposed to be a heartbeat there. As he shook his head to try and clear away the cobwebs, Stefan forcefully willed his mind to return to the present from the strange dreamworld it had concocted for him. He was in an abandoned house in Paris, he reminded himself, three thousand miles away from Elena and the horror she would feel at finding out what he had become.

The dreams had been coming with increasing frequency ever since the night had drunk Klaus's blood...the same night he had snapped and nearly taken his relationship with Klaus to a new and disturbing level.

Ever since then, Klaus had become the bane of his sleeping hours as well as his waking ones. It had been bad enough when the dreams were just Klaus standing there, staring at him, his eyes burning blue with liquid fire. When it was those dreams that came, Stefan would spend every night trying to kill him, and every night Klaus would just laugh; he’d stab him, shoot him, set him on fire, and always Klaus would remain, laughing.

But recently, Klaus had begun invading his memories, weaseling his way into some of Stefan's most intimate moments. The night Katherine had tried to turn him before they were interrupted by an unsuspecting housemaid was only Klaus’s most recent excursion into Stefan's subconscious.

He had appeared in Stefan's bed in Mystic Falls on that rainy night which should have been the first he spent with Elena, had conjured himself into the first time Stefan had declared his love for Katherine, and had even shown up at the lavish Rockefeller party after which he and Lexie had drunkenly decided to give it a go.

Wherever there used to be memories of the women he had loved - Katherine, Lexie, Elena - now there was only Klaus. The worst part for Stefan was that he could no longer retreat into his memories for comfort, for his tormentor now resided there also.

Stefan knew all too well that this could not go on much longer. There had to be a way to get Klaus out of his head, and he was very much afraid that unless he found it soon, he would most certainly go mad.

Having made up his mind to act, Stefan threw off the covers and, being careful to remain quiet, left his bedroom to make his way down what must have once been an impressively decorated hallway to the master bedroom in which Klaus slept. He was relieved to find the vampire sound asleep, sprawled haphazardly over the silk duvet, which was by this point permanently stained brown with blood.

Strange, Stefan thought as he carefully picked up Klaus’s scarf from where he had thrown it on an antique armchair, in sleep Klaus looked so harmless, almost...human. While his cruel blue eyes were shut, Klaus’s fair hair and pale skin made him appear more angel than devil. Only the blood-stained bedclothes he slumbered on so peacefully gave any clue to his vast capacity for violence.

Stefan mentally brushed away these idle musings and slipped from the room before Klaus could wake and ponder the cause of Stefan’s nocturnal visitation. He crept slowly back down the hallway, then the stairs, and finally out the door into the cool night air.

Though ordinarily Stefan would have enjoyed a nighttime stroll through the City of Lights, tonight he had urgent business to attend to, and so consequently traded the pleasure of a stroll for the expediency his supernatural speed afforded him. He watched the picturesque houses speed by as he crossed the Seine, sparing only a fleeting glance at the great cathedral of Notre Dame when it whizzed by on his right, and penetrated the heart of the Third District.

It had been many years since Stefan had been to Paris, but he knew some things didn’t change. He was hoping the kind of people the Third District attracted was one of them.

“You seem a little lost, cheri,” came a voice from the darkened doorway of one of the many small stone houses.

“Only a fool would choose to get lost in the Third District after midnight,” Stefan responded dryly.

“Since you do not seem to be a fool, may I ask what brings you here?” the woman asked, though she remained in the shadows.

“What brings anyone to the Rue Montmorency in the middle of the night," Stefan replied, "I am in need of information of a very...particular sort."

"Particular, you say?" she asked with a low laugh. "Yes, I think I may be able to help. Come inside." The woman turned and retreated back into the darkness, with the crack she left open in the door spilling a shaft of pale light onto the cobblestones.

Stefan took the hint, entered the building, which appeared to be a shop for the buying and selling of occult objects, and left a small stack of bills on the dust-covered counter.

"My name is Jacqueline Dupont. My family has been running this shop since Nicholas Flamel lived in that house over there, you know," she said as she rummaged through a box of strange items on the top shelf.

"Flamel, the alchemist?" Stefan asked, intrigued.

"My great-great-grandfather, Antoine Dupont, was Flamel's assistant," she explained, still removing various objects from the box, though for what she searched Stefan did not know, "And when he died, my great-great-grandmother used his research to start this shop. She dedicated her life to offering the citizens of Paris...alternative solutions to their problems. It's mostly tourists these days, though, dropping in after eating an overpriced meal in Flamel’s basement to pick up a crystal or talisman and whisper to their friends about seeing a real, live witch.”

“Ah, here they are!” she exclaimed, pulling a small velvet bag from the very bottom of what Stefan was beginning to suspect was not a normal box.

“Here...what are?” Stefan asked, slightly apprehensively.

“You wanted information, cheri. These are your best hope of finding it,” she replied, beckoning him to a small room in the back of the shop.

Stefan followed, seating himself opposite her at a small table at the wave of her hand. Jacqueline pulled a stack of ancient looking cards from the bag and carefully laid them on the table.

“Tarot cards?” Stefan asked skeptically.

“Oh, they’re not just for the tourists,” she said. “Yes, you can pull out the Knight of Cups now and again and tell some lonely women she will meet her tall, dark stranger, but don’t be thinking there isn’t real power in these cards. You channel it correctly, there’s no better way of getting information of the...particular variety you requested. Now then, what is it you’re wanting to know?”

“There’s a man,” Stefan began, “A very powerful man who has...a hold on me.”

“You wish to break this hold?” she asked, flicking cards between her fingers.

“Yes,” Stefan assented, “But first I must know exactly what I’m dealing with. I’ve been having these dreams...”

“Oh, dreams can be very powerful,” she said, “And sometimes very revealing.”

“I also brought you this,” he said, producing the scarf. “It’s his - I was hoping it might help you get a reading.”

“It certainly can’t hurt,” she agreed, examining the scarf carefully, then placing it on the table before handing him the cards. “Now, close your eyes, take these in your hands, and think only of him.”

Stefan did as she asked, and as he moved the cards back and forth in hands, his mind filled itself almost unbidden with thoughts of Klaus. Klaus staring unblinkingly at him with those piercing blue eyes. Klaus standing unrepentantly over a dead body, his gleaming pale skin stained red with blood. Klaus kissing him, touching him, seducing him, every night in his dreams.

Stefan was astonished to find that when he opened his eyes, the cards were no longer lying in his hands, but floating a few inches above the table. They spun rapidly in a circle until a few distributed themselves on the table in a cross pattern and the rest stacked themselves neatly on the side.

Jacqueline raised an eyebrow at him and said, “Those must have been some powerful thoughts, cheri, to make the cards do that. But what do they say, I wonder?”

With a flick of her wrist, she turned over the first card. “Ah, the Five of Swords. You have won a great battle, but at a terrible cost. Now you must live with the consequences.”

Stefan was surprised, but decided to keep his thoughts to himself for the moment; despite the recent seemingly supernatural theatrics, he was still holding out judgement on Jacqueline’s true abilities.

She continued to the second card, which he noticed contained a beautiful woman in Renaissance dress leading a lion on a gold chain, and murmured, “Strength. Now you fight another battle, this time within yourself. There is a primal, dark side that of yourself you seek desperately to suppress.”

“Enough psychoanalysis,” Stefan said impatiently, though he would have sworn he felt a small chill pass over him, “It is not myself but another that I come here about.”

Jacqueline merely sent him a withering look and snapped her fingers, at which point the third card flipped over instantly, revealing a horned man consumed by flames. The gold embossed script read: The Devil.

“The Devil. So he is a force of pure evil, then?” Stefan asked her.

“Nothing is that simple, cheri,” she answered, with a shake of the head. “Each card contains shades of both dark and light, and the Devil is no different. He is extreme, yes, tempting, intense, sometimes cruel. But with that kind of power always lies the capacity for good as well as evil.”

“I doubt there is good anywhere in him,” Stefan said bitterly.

Jacqueline waved her hand over the next card, which floated up and fluttered back down again to display a couple in an intimate embrace, the caption below naming them as “The Lovers”. “Are you so sure?” she asked with an amused, little smile.

“What do they represent?” Stefan asked, trying not to let the strange panic he was feeling show in his voice.

“Oh, they can mean many things,” she responded with a flippant wave of the hand. “Sometimes they are duality - two sides of a single nature which must be brought into harmony. Other times...a rather more literal interpretation is necessary.” She glanced at him pointedly before moving on to the next cards, which turned themselves over in quick succession.

Her expression visibly darkened as she examined them. “This isn’t just about the two of you anymore,” she told Stefan ominously, though her eyes never left the cards. “Eight of Wands - something’s coming, and fast. Three of Swords - heartbreak. The Hanged Man - All will be turned upside down.”

“What do you mean?” Stefan asked, alarmed. He had only come to learn about what was happening with Klaus; the idea that there was a bigger picture took him entirely by surprise. “What’s coming?”

As if in response, a wind blew through the room, extinguishing the wall lamps so only the candle in the center of the table shed any light, and flipped over the final card. A wave of fear seized Stefan as he took in the images depicted on the card: a tower struck by lightning, twisted bodies falling from it, their mouths arranged in screams, and everything completely covered in fire.

“I have to go,” he muttered quickly, nearly turning over his chair in his haste to leave the place. But as he turned to leave, Jacqueline grabbed his hand and said urgently, “Dark things are brewing, Stefan Salvatore.”

“How do you know my name?” he demanded, wrenching his arm from her grasp.

“I know many things, about you, about the one called Klaus whose influence drove you to seek my help,” she said, renewing her grip on his sleeve, “There are whispers in the shadow world, dark whispers. Something is coming, something bad, and you can stop it.”

“Me?” Stefan asked in surprise. “What hope can I have in going up against Klaus? He is much stronger than I am, and besides, it would violate the promise I made to him.”

“It is not your purpose to defeat Klaus,” she explained seriously. “Has it not occurred to you that yours is not the only nature fighting with itself? Klaus would have you believe that he is supremely powerful, that he feels nothing, and wishes only destruction, but I think we both know that isn’t entirely true.”

“So, what, you’re saying I have to reform Klaus?” Stefan asked with a dark laugh, “If that is the case, we may as well capitulate now to this coming dark power.”

“Your purpose shall become clear to you soon,” she said mysteriously, “But for now, you must go. There are matters that require your immediate attention.”

Stefan once more began to leave, but as he did, Jacqueline called after him, “Oh, and Stefan? Klaus did not send you the dreams; they are entirely the product of your own subconscious. Interesting, is it not?”

Not sure how to process this latest revelation, Stefan left the shop and once again availed himself of his vampire speed, this time to head back toward the mansion. Though he didn’t know exactly what he planned to do, or even if he believed the witch’s dark portents, the shivers that wouldn’t stop running up and down his spine had him thinking the sooner he returned to Klaus, the better.


	3. Something There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stefan rescues Klaus from an even more powerful enemy, he discovers a side of him he didn't know was there.

The cool Parisian air rushed over Stefan’s face as he wound his way through the labyrinthine streets until reaching the familiar red door marking the entrance to the mansion. Though he normally strode through its entry without a second thought - Klaus had ensured that its previous last owners were long dead - Stefan felt a strange sense of foreboding as he drew closer and instead opened it quietly before slipping inside.

The second he reached the foyer, Stefan discerned faint voices coming from one of the upstairs rooms. In an effort to both conceal his presence and investigate further, he crept into a dark corner by the kitchen and endeavored to listen in on the intruders. Using his enhanced senses, Stefan could just make out the words being said.

“Where is your companion?” a surly voice shouted.

“I have told you already,” came a second voice, which Stefan recognized as Klaus’s, though it sounded considerably strained, “I am alone.”

Stefan’s stomach began to do strange little flips as he realized that not only were these men looking for him, but for some reason he could not fathom, Klaus appeared to be protecting him from them.

“Then who sleeps in the bedroom across the hallway?” the voice demanded again.

Stefan could just make out a small chuckle from Klaus before he replied, “Who doesn’t sleep there? My bed is large, to be sure, but sometimes I have need for...additional accommodations.”

The next thing Stefan heard was a scream that he was almost certain came from Klaus.

“I’m so sorry, my hand slipped,” came an unctuous, new voice, “Did that hurt? I really should be more careful - I’ve heard vervane can be quite painful, especially when mixed with silver.”

“Think nothing of it, dear fellow,” came Klaus’s reply, the bravado in his voice not entirely masking his pain, “The exclamation you just heard was merely an expression of my surprise.”

“I am glad to hear it,” the man replied, continuing to use a tone of false civility. “Now, I have no idea why you are lying about being alone here, but it is of no consequence. Whenever this mysterious associate returns, he shall quickly be apprehended and disposed of by my men. My desire for his identity merely stemmed from my, I must confess, somewhat obsessive need to tidy up loose ends.”

“Then this one shall forever plague you, I’m afraid, for I am quite alone in this house,” Klaus said firmly.

“This is the one and only lie I will allow you to utter without consequence this evening, Lord Niklaus,” the man said, his voice suddenly hard. “The vervane was but a trifle. You do not wish to find out what I consider to be real punishment.”

“I have been alive for thousands of years,” Klaus shot back haughtily. “I am the ultimate evolution of two superior races. Do you really think you frighten me, sir?”

“So old, ancient even, yet your arrogance is that of the young,” the man said contemplatively. “How is it that you have gained no wisdom in the millennia you have walked this earth? No perspective? No sense of something greater than yourself?”

“And tell me, what is there greater than myself?” Klaus challenged him.

“Forces even a specimen as admittedly impressive as yourself cannot possibly comprehend,” the man replied, in a tone that sent a chill rattling through Stefan’s body. “Now, why are you here in Paris, Lord Niklaus?”

“I have a soft spot for the cuisine,” Klaus returned casually, “I am sorry that I polished off the last of my...leftovers last night, or I could offer you some.”

The scream Klaus let out at this point was like nothing Stefan had ever heard before; the closest parallel he could summon was how he had always imagined the screams of the damned when the local parson had preached of them in his youth. It was all he could do not to run up the stairs at that instant to try and help. No one, not even Klaus, deserved to feel the kind of pain that made them emit a sound like that.

“I trust you understand now I that I am quite serious about my need for absolute truth,” the man said cooly. “A little concoction of my own making; I won’t bore you with the ingredients. Balance, Klaus - may I call you Klaus? I feel like I know you so well now that we may dispense with the formalities - you of all people should know that balance is the key to everything. It is why the witches bound your powers so many years ago; did it not occur to you that counteracting their spell would summon a power equally potent to match you?”

In the silence that followed, Stefan took the opportunity to mentally summarize the situation and assess his options. There was a man upstairs more powerful than Klaus who wished at the very least to harm them both. As far as he knew, his presence had thus far gone unnoticed. He could, he realized, simply walk out the door and not look back. Even if Klaus made it through the night, it was unlikely that finding Stefan would be high on his priorities list. He could make his way to the airport, find the soonest flight to the US, compel a couple flight attendants to give him a seat, and be on his way. He could go home.

He had been dreaming of home so intensely that he was all the way to the door before he realized that his plan was impossible. He couldn’t just leave and let a man the equal of Klaus roam the streets of Paris unchecked, let alone with Klaus in his custody. The kind of man who could make Klaus scream like that could also surely destroy scores of humans and even normal vampires with very little effort, and, what’s more, this one clearly had a big plans.

There was also the not insignificant fact that Klaus had lied to protect him. Not only lied, Stefan considered, but lied under torture, just so Stefan could have a chance at escaping. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Stefan realized that he couldn’t live with himself if he simply left Klaus to his fate; he owed him a debt, and it demanded repayment. Damon would have laughed at his display of honor in the face of probable destruction, he thought ruefully, but Stefan didn’t care; he’d learned the hard way that sometimes living with one’s crimes was a fate worse than death.

Now that he’d, probably foolishly, decided to save Klaus there was the small matter of how exactly he was going to go about rescuing him from a man whose power seemed immense, yet completely shrouded in mystery, not to mention an unspecified number of supernatural lackeys.

“Now, Klaus, let’s try again,” the man from upstairs spoke once more, “Why are you in Paris? And don’t bother trying to lie - I will know.”

“You come to my home, torture me, address me by my true name, and yet you do not give me yours,” Klaus said weakly. “It seems a true breech of etiquette not to at least give me something to call you.”

There was a pause as the man apparently considered this, then replied, “Very well, I believe you have earned that much. My true name has no comparable word in your language, but for the sake of convenience, you may call me, ‘Malachi’ - It means “the messenger.” I trust that by now you have gotten the message.”

Stefan knew that if he waited much longer, there was a chance there wouldn’t be anything left of Klaus to save. He took a quick accounting of his advantages, and was depressed to find they amounted to only one thing: the element of surprise. Well, Stefan thought wryly, he would just have to make it one hell of a surprise.

Doubling his efforts to move absolutely silently, Stefan stole into the kitchen and looked around for anything he could use, hoping desperately that there had been unofficial occupants since the last owners held the house more than a century earlier. In plain sight, he found up a box of matches lying by the stove, a couple rusted knives hanging over the sink, and a pile of wood in the corner by the antique stove. A more intensive search of the cabinets yielded a half full bottle of vodka, one very ratty dish towel, a few empty wine bottles, and, to Stefan’s delight, a full container of gasoline, presumably for the stove.

Setting to work as quickly and quietly as he was able, Stefan picked up the least useless of the knives and began whittling rough stakes out of some of the smaller pieces of wood. After carefully placing two of these in the back pockets of his jeans, Stefan started in on the more delicate preparations.

Hoping that his memory of making objects of violence still served, Stefan poured the gasoline into one of the empty wine bottles before stoppering it with a cork. He then soaked the dish towel in the vodka and tied it securely around the mouth of the bottle before slipping the matches into his jacket pocket.

Grabbing the bottle and making sure the stakes were still firmly in his pockets, Stefan crept up the stairs until he was hidden behind a bookshelf right outside the door to Klaus’s bedroom. After listening to ascertain that the intruders were still in the room, he picked up a book with his spare hand, flung it hard down the stairs, and waited.

“What was that?” Malachi hissed from inside the room. “Lucius, go see if we have another guest to bring to our party.”

Stefan waited until the tall, lanky vampire had completely cleared the room before whipping the stake out of his pocket and plunging it into his back in one clean stroke. The one called Lucius made a sort of choking noise, as if gasping for air he had not breathed for many years, before falling lifelessly to the carpet.

Wasting no time, Stefan removed a match from his pocket, kicked the door open, and lit the dish towel on fire, and let go. Malachi was just raising his hands toward Stefan, presumably to perform some sort of spell, when the bottle broke over his body and covered every inch of him in an explosion of flame. The second vampire was too busy jumping back in surprise and pain at the fire to notice Stefan approaching him with the second stake until it was too late.

With Malachi’s henchmen dispatched of and the man himself temporarily incapacitated, Stefan turned his attention to Klaus, who had been secured to his four poster bed with heavy silver chains. Stefan began swiftly untying the chains, doing his best to ignore the way the silver burned his hands, and, when he finally finished, caught Klaus before he could topple to the floor.

Manually wrapping Klaus’s arms around his neck, Stefan murmured, “Hold on,” before whisking them both out of the house as fast as he could possibly go. It was only when they had reached the Seine and Stefan was confident they weren’t being followed that he realized he hadn’t actually planned out what to do after the escape. In truth, he hadn’t really believed his scheme would work, so planning any further than throwing a Molotov cocktail at a powerful sorcerer and running like mad had just seemed like tempting fate.

“Stefan,” came a weak whisper from beside him, and Stefan was startled to realize that it had come from Klaus. As he moved his head to really look at Klaus for the first time that night, Stefan was shocked by what he saw: the habitual glossy whiteness of his skin had somehow morphed into a dull, yellowish color, his entire upper body was covered with gashes and burns, and those unforgettable blue eyes, always glinting, flashing, challenging, were now lifeless and bloodshot. Stefan was so used to watching Klaus be arrogant and completely in control that seeing him in such a weakened state caught completely off guard.

“I...need...blood,” Klaus spoke again, seemingly trying to return Stefan’s gaze, but unable to lift his head more than a few inches from where it lay resting on Stefan’s shoulder.

“Klaus, I don’t know-” was all Stefan was able to say before Klaus had lunged away from him in a flash. Stefan turned rapidly to find him holding a strung-out looking prostitute up against a wall, his fangs unsheathed. But just as Stefan was running to pull him off her, Klaus screamed and raised his hands to his head in pain, releasing the girl in the process.

Stefan contemplated compelling the girl, but she seemed to be strangely unperturbed by the incident, probably the result of drug or alcohol abuse, Stefan mused. As she continued to stagger her way down the alley as if nothing had happened, Stefan turned his attention to Klaus, who had collapsed on the ground, presumably having used up what little strength he had on the botched attack.

“Klaus? Klaus?” Stefan shouted, shaking him urgently, but with no visible result. Stefan dragged one of Klaus’s arms over his shoulders and yanked him into a standing position. His rapid deterioration increased the urgency of the situation, and Stefan knew in a flash that there was only one place they could go.

Keeping one hand around Klaus’s waist and the other clamping Klaus’s hand to his shoulder, Stefan sped them across the river and back to the Third District. After reaching his destination, Stefan began to pound on the door of the only person in Paris who could help him now: Jacqueline Dupont.

After a few seconds, the door was opened by a flustered Jaqueline; though she was fully dressed, her rumpled hair and hastily buttoned blouse indicated that she had received only a little advance knowledge of their arrival.

“You cannot be here, Stefan,” she hissed, “It’s far too dangerous.” Jacqueline attempted to slam the door in his face, but Stefan swiftly wedged his body in it.

“Please, Jacqueline, you’re the only chance we’ve got of escaping Malachi. And currently, we’re the only chance anyone has of stopping him from doing God knows what. You said it yourself, dark things are coming. Well, I’ve got some bad news for you; they’re already here.”

Jacqueline’s dark eyes flashed for a moment, but she opened the door a few inches more to allow them in. “Come, I have a place where you can hide out for a little while,” she said, motioning toward the back of the shop. Stefan followed, dragging Klaus’s unconscious form with him, and watched in amazement as Jacqueline tilted a small crystal pyramid upward, causing the bookcase it was situated on to swing out and reveal a narrow, lamplit staircase.

“My grandfather was an engineer, and a cautious one,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “During the Second World War, he created this chamber to hide his family in case the Nazis decided to add witches to the list of the persecuted. Though it never came to that, my family has nevertheless found this room to be a valuable asset.”

As they wound their way down the stairs, with Jacqueline and a torch leading the way, there came into view a cozy, little room, containing an antique double bed, desk and chair with writing materials, a bookcase, and a large wardrobe. Stefan stepped forward, deposited Klaus on the bed, and, after subconsciously adjusting Klaus into a more comfortable position, sat down next to him.

“You should be safe here for a few days,” Jacqueline said, “And if anyone should bother you...” She strode over to the wardrobe and opened it to reveal a row of guns, crossbows, and various other instruments of violence.

“Thank you, Jacqueline,” Stefan said sincerely, adding, “I am sorry to drag you into this.”

“You have dragged me into nothing, cheri,” she replied, waving him off, “I am involved because, for some reason I do not yet know, it is necessary that I be. Now, what is wrong with your friend?”

“He’s not - I don’t know,” said Stefan with a sigh. “I thought it was just the torture, but he should have healed from even the most severe of normal wounds long before now. There’s something supernatural at work.”

“Let me go grab a few of my tools, and I’ll see what I can do,” she said thoughtfully and, with a soft rustle of her skirt, she was gone, winding her way back up into the main part of the shop. Stefan leaned back against the bed frame with a sigh and tiredly rubbed his hands over his face. Clearly the night’s adventures were beginning to catch up with him.

When he opened his eyes again, Jacqueline had returned and was busying herself placing candles and quartz crystals in alternation on the edges of the room and pouring a circle of salt around the bed itself.

“You might want to move for this part,” she suggested, and as soon as Stefan had cleared the bed, the candles simultaneously sprang to life. He watched in alarm as Jacqueline raised her hands, at which point, Klaus’s eyes shot open and he began to scream again. Jacqueline started chanting words in some language Stefan could not understand, and Klaus’s hands quickly grasped the thin bedclothes in an iron-like grip as his body arched up and twitched violently in pain.

“Is this really necessary?” Stefan demanded. When she didn’t answer him, he rushed forward to try calming Klaus down, but was shocked to find himself hurled backward at the wall the second he reached the circle of salt.

Jacqueline turned slowly toward him, hands still raised, and he was startled to see that her eyes had turned a bright, unearthly shade of blue. “This is powerful sorcery, Stefan,” she said firmly, “It will not reveal itself to me without a fight.”

He remained quiet after that and spent his time trying not to think about the fact that it actually hurt him to see Klaus be tortured for the second time that evening. After what seemed like an eternity of chanting and screaming, Jacqueline finally lowered her hands, causing the candles to blow out and Klaus to fall back onto the bed, shaking and covered in sweat.

Stefan instinctively lunged forward toward the bed and called out, “Klaus? Klaus? Are you all right?”

Inexplicable relief flooded him when Klaus turned his head in his direction and Stefan could see that his blue eyes, though tired and full of pain, were once again alert. “Marvelous, dear boy, thank you for inquiring,” Klaus said with some effort. “And, tell me, who is this lovely creature whom I am to thank for my latest round of torture?”

“Jacqueline Dupont,” she said proudly from her place beside the bed, “And you should be thanking me, Lord Niklaus. Without my intervention, not only would you still be catatonic, but your brave friend here would have no idea what you are up against.”

“Then I thank you sincerely for all your assistance, Miss Dupont,” Klaus said, attempting to execute a little gentlemanly bow, but managing only a slight gesture of the hand. “Tell me, what exactly are we up against?”

Jacqueline’s expression clouded as she began to answer, then apparently thought the better of it, replying instead, “It can wait until morning. Believe me, there’s a long fight ahead, and you’ll both be needing whatever rest you can get.” With a meaningful glance at both of them, Jacqueline departed, heading up the stairs and bearing the torch with her, shutting the bookcase marking the entrance on her way out.

“She’s right, you should get your rest,” Stefan said to Klaus, rising to settle himself down in the desk chair for the night.

“Stefan,” Klaus murmured, catching Stefan’s wrist in a weak grip, which caused Stefan to turn and find Klaus staring imploringly at him. “You saved me tonight, and you didn’t have to. Why?”

Stefan paused, unsure how to answer, finally sighed and responded with his own question, “I don’t know Klaus, why did you protect me when you didn’t have to?”

Klaus gave him a tired, little smile and said, “I already ruined your life, Stefan, not getting you killed seemed like the least I could do.”

It took Stefan a moment to fully process the idea that Klaus actually acknowledged what he had taken from Stefan, and what’s more, was almost apologizing for it. Before he could formulate an adequate reply, Klaus continued, “You can consider your debt to me officially paid. You can leave whenever you like. Jacqueline and I will sort out Malachi.”

“No,” Stefan said, surprising both Klaus and himself with the firmness of his answer, “I’m not leaving. Malachi is a greater threat than any I’ve ever come across, yourself included, and I’m not going anywhere until he is dealt with.”

An expression Stefan could not quite decipher passed over Klaus’s face for a moment before he shrugged and said, “On your head be it, then, my friend.” Klaus shifted his body to try and settle down for the night, but winced the second he attempted to lift his torso and fell ignominiously down again onto the bed.

“Here,” Stefan murmured, as he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Klaus’s waist, gently turning him onto his side. When he attempted to withdraw, however, Stefan was surprised to find Klaus’s hand wrapped around his right forearm, and even more surprised to hear him utter a soft, “Thank you.”

Stefan smiled in spite of himself at the absurdity of the world’s oldest known vampire thanking him for essentially tucking him in for the night, or perhaps acting like his knight in shining armor, and was about to leave when he realized that Klaus was still clinging to his arm and showing no signs of letting go. For no specific reason he could name - sympathy, perhaps, or maybe just a weariness of resisting - Stefan found himself also settling down on the bed, resting his head beside Klaus’s on the pillow.

Klaus said nothing, but shifted his body just enough so that it was pressed up against Stefan’s and slid his hand down from Stefan’s arm so that their fingers were linked. Lying there next to him in a dimly lit room on an ancient bed, Stefan was struck again by how vulnerable Klaus looked in repose, not at all like the commanding, cruel Klaus he had seen too often during his waking hours.

Klaus’s voice from beside him interrupted Stefan’s musings. “Stefan?” he asked hesitantly, keeping his face turned away.

“Mmmm?” Stefan replied sleepily.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “For all of it. You’re more than I deserve.” Though he then lapsed once more into silence, Klaus placed his other hand on top of the one he had joined with Stefan’s.

“Go to sleep, Klaus,” Stefan murmured, though he was oddly touched, “We can talk about it tomorrow.” Without consciously meaning to, he suddenly found himself using his spare hand to stroke Klaus’s hair, which seemed to lull the other vampire into an almost immediate slumber.

Perhaps, Stefan thought, closing his eyes, just perhaps, there was more to Klaus than he wanted people to believe. This was a thought he deemed distinctly worthy of investigating, but on another day. For now, all he wanted to do was sleep, and if he slept a little better with his arms around Klaus, then so be it.


	4. Someone to Save You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Klaus discovers that he can't attack humans, Stefan must help him come to grips with a new vision of himself, and the two become closer as Klaus confides in Stefan about the secrets of his past. Meanwhile, Jacqueline figures out who is controlling Malachi, and the three of them prepare for the final battle.

“What do you mean, I cannot attack humans?” Klaus shouted angrily, incensed enough to attempt to rise from the bed before Stefan’s firm hand on his chest convinced him to think the better of it.

“It is just as I said,” repeated Jacqueline impatiently, “Whoever this Malachi is, he has access to levels of magic I did not even know existed. Magic strong enough to render a vampire with even your kind of power essentially...harmless.”

Klaus’s eyes flashed blue as he snapped, “Give me a few more days to recover, and I will personally show you who is harmless.”

“Klaus,” Stefan said warningly, “Jacqueline has been more than kind in hosting us and helping you recover. Not only is what happened to you not here fault, but she may be the only one who can fix it. So I would suggest you apologize before you find yourself out on the street with no powers and no friends.”

Klaus stared at Stefan for a couple moments, as if weighing his words carefully, then turned to Jacqueline and murmured, “Je suis désolé, Jacqueline. This entire affair has me a bit on edge. I have overstepped my bounds as a guest of your house, and for that I sincerely apologize.”

Stefan stared at him in astonishment before remembering that Klaus had, after all, played the part of the English gentleman for quite some time. Clearly something as rigid and ingrained as the British etiquette system could never be completely forgotten.

Jacqueline watched them with something Stefan would have sworn was masked amusement before continuing on, “As I was saying, the spell Malachi cast on Klaus has done something to Klaus’s mind, whereby any attack on a human causes him extreme pain.”

“And that’s why he screamed and passed out when he tried to drink from that girl last night?” Stefan said, slowly putting the pieces together.

“I believe so,” Jacqueline agreed. “I can’t know even begin to try and reverse the spell until we know who we’re dealing with, so that has to be our first order of business.”

“Well, how do we do that?” Stefan asked. “Something tells me googling ‘Malachi plus sorcerer’ isn’t going to be terribly helpful.”

Jacqueline narrowed her eyes at him before sweeping out of the room without a word, Stefan presumed to find research materials.

Taking advantage of the lull, he got up and offered Klaus another blood bag. Seeing the sulky look on Klaus’s face, he added firmly, “Come on, Klaus, you need to keep your strength up. You nearly died last night, if you remember.”

Klaus continued to stare at it sullenly for a couple moments before finally snatching it from Stefan’s outstretched hand and taking a few sips. “This is so demeaning,” he said, his face arranged in a pout. “I mean, vampires are hunters by nature, Stefan. Me drinking blood from a bag is like a lion getting...McDonalds. It’s just wrong!”

“Would you stop complaining for one second and just be grateful that you’re alive?” Stefan asked, exasperated. “I know you’ve spent centuries thinking you’re invincible, Klaus, but you’re not. It’s high time you realized that.”

Klaus looked at Stefan like he had more to say, but was prevented from responding by Jacqueline’s rapid return to the room, her arms filled with an improbable number of dusty, leather-bound tomes. “There’s four generations of Dupont knowledge in these books,” she said proudly as she dropped them gently on the desk. “Google has nothing on me.”

Stefan gave her a little smile before he picked up a book and asked, “So, how does this work exactly? I mean, we know next to nothing about him.”

“Power,” Klaus said thoughtfully, as Jacqueline moved to deposit a stack of books next to him on the bed. “The kind of power that he has must come from somewhere. That’s where we start.”

Three hours and fifteen books later, they knew no more of Malachi than when the search had begun.

“This is pointless,” Klaus said frustratedly, emphatically closing the book he was perusing and placing it on the pile next to where Stefan was stretched out beside him on the bed.

With a small glance at Klaus, Stefan laid his own book on his chest, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. “There has to be something we’re missing, Jacqueline,” he said tiredly.

“Je ne sais pas, Stefan,” Jacqueline replied, leaning back in her chair. “If there is something more, I certainly don’t know what it is.”

Stefan pondered in silence for a few minutes, exclaiming suddenly, “Wait, wait. He said his name meant the messenger, didn’t he?”

“I do seem to recall hearing something like that in between the bouts of incredible agony he was causing me,” Klaus said dryly.

Stefan ignored the sarcasm and pressed on, “And he also implied that his existence was a direct consequence of you releasing your werewolf side, yes?”

Klaus turned to look at Stefan, his blue eyes suddenly bright and alert, and said slowly, “Yes, I suppose he did.”

“If they chose him as the messenger, clearly someone is sending a very specific message,” Stefan reasoned. “If we find them, we can find out how to defeat Malachi.”

“Witches!” Klaus exclaimed suddenly. “With everything that he was saying about balance, it has to be witches. They were the ones who came up with the curse in the first place, so it only makes sense they would act when it was broken.”

Stefan nodded slowly, then turned his attention to Jacqueline and asked urgently, “Jacqueline, do you know of any covens powerful enough to summon someone like Malachi?”

She thought for a few minutes, her expression growing more and more troubled, until at last she said tentatively, “There is one.”

“Well, where are they?” Klaus demanded, “How do we defeat them?”

“You are a fool if you think it will be as easy as that, Klaus,” Jacqueline said darkly. “No one has seen them and lived to speak of it for over two hundred years.”

“Who are they?” Stefan inquired.

“They have been called many different things over the centuries,” Jacqueline explained. She rose and stared off into the distance as she continued, “It is said that they started as an off-shoot of the Vestal Virgins, tending the sacred fire of the goddess Vesta; the Romans believed that their city could flourish only as long as the fire was not extinguished. Consequently, there are those who think that the Vestals themselves caused the fall of Rome because they believed the city to have violated the balance of the universe in the scope of its power and influence.”

“Wait, wait, you’re saying we have to take down a group of witches that toppled the Roman Empire?” Stefan asked, looking mildly horrified.

“You misunderstand me, Stefan,” Jacqueline replied. “We cannot defeat them. Their power is rooted in something far too old for them to be vanquishable, by us or anyone else. Our only chance is to make them reverse things, to convince them that releasing Malachi was a greater crime against balance than allowing Klaus to be unchecked.”

“And how can you be sure it’s them?” Klaus asked skeptically, folding his arms over his chest.

“Oh, didn’t I say?” Jacqueline asked with a falsely innocent smile, “They were the ones who put the binding curse on you in the first place.”

Klaus unleashed an inventive stream of expletives, causing Stefan to send Jacqueline an apologetic look, to which she responded with a raised eyebrow and amused head tilt, as if to say, You think I haven’t heard worse?

“Putting aside the fact that we have to persuade a group of witches who hate Klaus to not only destroy the only person powerful enough to defeat him, but also give him back the powers they never wanted him to have in the first place -” Stefan began.

“Oh yes, let’s put that aside, it’s hardly relevant,” Klaus interrupted sarcastically.

“For the moment,” Stefan continued loudly, thumping Klaus on the chest with the book he had been holding, “How do we even find these witches?”

Jacqueline’s brow furrowed, and she was silent for a few moments before answering, “There is someone who may be able to help us, but if I am to find him, I must go immediately to Marseilles.”

“Should we come with you?” Stefan inquired, “It could be dangerous.”

“More dangerous if you’re with me, I think,” Jacqueline replied. “Malachi has thus far remained unaware of your presence, and the more I think about it, the more I am convinced it is because of this room. When I was a little girl, my grandfather used to take me down here with him and tell me, “Jacqueline, ma p’tite, always remember this - as long as you are in this room, you are completely safe. No matter how hard they try, no one will ever be able to find you here.” At the time, I thought nothing of it, but the more I consider it now, the more I am convinced he cast a shielding spell on this chamber.”

“And you think the second that Klaus and I leave, Malachi will be able to sense us?” Stefan suggested.

“I believe so, yes,” Jacqueline agreed, gathering a few things from around the room as she spoke. “If you leave before Klaus is fully recovered, you won’t stand a chance at even evading, let alone defeating him. Besides, I do not believe he knows of my involvement, so there will be little danger for me in travelling alone.”

With a quick glance around the room and a small nod, she added, “Now, I should go. I will send you a message if I find what we are looking for.” With that, she swept up the staircase, opened the hidden door, and was gone.

Stefan had returned his attention to the book in his hand, hoping to find some kind of leverage to use against the witches, when Klaus suddenly shouted, “What good is this going to do anyway?” and threw his own book at the opposite wall, which it hit full on before falling to the ground with a thud.

“Oh, very mature, Klaus,” Stefan said sarcastically, swinging off the bed to go and pick up the book, “For a guy who’s thousands of years old, you sure have a penchant for acting like a child.”

Klaus said nothing, but crossed his arms over his chest and stared stormily off into the distance.

Having lived with Damon for over a year now, Stefan knew that pose very well - the quiet, calm surface masking a massive tangle of emotional upheaval beneath.

He placed the book softly on the little writing desk, then slowly walked over to sit beside Klaus on the bed. “What’s this really about, Klaus?” Stefan said quietly. “Talk to me.”

Klaus turned to look at him, his blue eyes filled with unaccustomed uncertainty. He opened, then closed his mouth a few times, as if unsure how to go the ritual of about confiding in someone.

Finally, he began miserably, “I have been a killer for a thousand years, Stefan. I take what I want, and I don’t care who I hurt, and above all, I am beholden to no one. I am hated, and I am feared, and in return I show no mercy. That is who I am. This helpless, pitiful creature who can’t drink from even the most insignificant human? I don’t know who he is, but he’s not me.”

Stefan considered this for a couple of moments before responding, “Let me ask you something, Klaus. All that fear and hatred you were talking about, what did it get you? Did it make you happy?”

“Happy?” Klaus asked with a sharp little laugh, “We’re vampires, Stefan, it is not our goal to be happy. To be worshipped, to be powerful, to be gods - that is for us. Happiness is for mortals who can’t even begin to imagine anything beyond it.”

“You’re wrong, Klaus,” Stefan said evenly, keeping eye contact between them. “If we choose to, we can feel everything we did when we were humans - more so, in fact. I played the death and destruction game once, too, as you well know; I tell you truthfully that it never brought me more than a few moments of fleeting pleasure. I killed and killed and killed, and every time I felt less and less, until it got to the point where nothing even made a dent. That was when I decided I wanted my life to be more than that.”

“So you think I should just give it all up?” Klaus asked incredulously, “Relinquish the feeling of ultimate power to, what, live the American dream - white picket fence, couple of adorable moppets, refrigerator full of prepackaged blood? I can’t play human, Stefan, I’ve no talent for it.”

“But you must have once,” Stefan pointed out. “You were human, too, once upon a time, like I was. You had a human life, a family.”

Klaus’s face clouded over as he said, “Oh, I had a family all right - we were even somewhat happy for a time, even after we became vampires. That was until my sixteenth birthday, when my father found out I wasn’t his. That was when everything I loved in this world burned and turned to ash in my hands.”

“What happened?” Stefan asked, concerned.

“It’s a bad story, Stefan,” Klaus warned him darkly. “Are you absolutely sure you want to hear it?”

Stefan pivoted so he was facing Klaus and said seriously, “Yes, Klaus, I’m sure.”

Klaus nodded solemnly and began, “My father had always been a violent man, and I’d had no illusions that he loved me, but nothing which came before could have possibly prepared me for what happened that day. My mother had thrown me a party to mark the occasion, and while the guests were enjoying themselves, two of my brothers and I stole some vodka and had our own little celebration behind the house. When my father caught us drinking it, he flew into a rage, grabbed the half-empty bottle, and broke it over my head.”

“Just for having a little alcohol?” Stefan asked, horrified.

Klaus gave him a little shrug and continued, “It was nothing new, and though I normally just waited out his rages, that night was different. That night it made me truly angry, angrier than I had ever felt before. I pushed him as hard as I could, and to my surprise he flew across the yard. As I stood there, wondering what had just happened, I heard my brothers whispering, “His eyes. His eyes!” I turned to look at my reflection in the small lily-pond my mother had created beside the house, and sure enough, my eyes were glowing a bright golden-yellow, not at all like either their normal blue shade or the deep black they turned from bloodlust.

“Your werewolf side was waking up,” Stefan deduced.

Klaus nodded in assent, then went on, “While I was trying to figure out what on earth was wrong with me, my father got up and was preparing to attack me again, but stopped dead in his tracks for a full ten seconds when he saw my eyes. If I thought he was angry before, it was nothing compared to how he looked after that. He let out this savage sort of scream and came at me with the first weapon he could find, which happened to be a piece of steel piping lying in a heap of building materials nearby.”

Stefan noticed with some dismay that Klaus subconsciously drew his knees up to his chest, as if trying to defend himself against the memory, before he continued, “Even with my newfound hybrid strength, I was no match for his rage, and before I knew it, he’d struck me to the ground. Then he just kept beating me again and again with that pipe and yelling, “You are not my son! You are not my son!” over and over again. At some point in the middle of it all, as I began to black out from the pain and blood loss, I remember thinking, ‘This is it. He’s really going to kill me this time, and there’s nothing I can do about it.’ “

“I’m sorry, Klaus,” Stefan said quietly, shifting closer to him, “That’s an awful thing.”

Klaus lifted his head to look at him, and Stefan was startled to see his eyes were wet as he said, “Oh, that’s not the worst part, Stefan. Death I could have handled. But my mother must have heard the commotion, and when she came running out to help me, he directed his fury at her instead. I watched as he slammed her up against the wall of the house and screamed how she was a whore, a bitch, a slut, and demanded to know how long she’d been fucking Joshua - a friend of the family. She wept and denied it, swore that she loved him and would never, but this just made him angrier, and he slapped her, hard enough that she fell to the ground.”

Stefan could see tears begin to fall unbidden from Klaus’s eyes, and instinctively reached out a hand to give Klaus’s a reassuring squeeze. Klaus’s voice trembled a little, but he kept going, “Then he grabbed a sharpened piece of firewood from the same heap of junk and used it to pin her up against the wall, the tip of it positioned directly over her heart. Fear danced in her eyes, and she pleaded with him not to do it, to think of the children, of their life together, but he just screamed at her again. And then he killed her, drove the wood right through her heart. My father killed my mother right there, in front of me, and there wasn’t I thing I could do to stop it. The last thing I remember before my memory just goes blank is her eyes - when he impaled her, her head fell to the side, and I could pinpoint the exact moment when the light went out of her eyes forever. And just like that, the only person who ever really loved me was gone.”

“Oh, Klaus,” Stefan murmured softly, his heart going out to the man on the bed, who at that moment looked much more like a broken, scared boy of sixteen than a remorseless killer who’d lived through multiple millennia.

“To this day, I have no recollection of how I escaped,” Klaus finished, laying his head tiredly down on his knees. “The next thing I knew, I was lying in the woods, miles from my home, covered in my own blood. It took a few days of living off of the blood of wild animals and the occasional careless hunter for me to get back the strength to travel, but as soon as I was able, I made my way back toward our estate. I threw open the front door and called for my mother, desperately hoping it had been some sort of awful dream, but the second I was met by my eldest brother William and saw the anger on his face, I knew it had all been real. He filled me in on what had happened in the days I had missed: our father had hunted down and killed not only my biological father, Joshua, but his entire family as well. Now there was a war raging between our families. When William had finished, he looked at me, then very calmly told me to get out, to leave and never, ever come back. He said that I was the reason our mother was dead, that I was a half-breed monster, and if I even thought of returning, he would kill me on sight.”

“How could he have said that to you?” Stefan demanded, incensed, “What happened wasn’t your fault. I mean, he was your brother, for God’s sake!”

“Half-brother,” Klaus corrected, “Which apparently meant just enough to him not to kill me then and there.”

“What did you do, then?” Stefan asked, trying to bring his temper down again.

“What could I do?” Klaus responded with a resigned little shrug, “I ran, first out of that house, then as far as I could go. My biological parents were both dead, the man I had always thought of as my father wanted to kill me, and my siblings thought of me as some kind of freak who had gotten their mother killed. Everything I had ever loved, had ever been during my human life, was gone. So I waited, watched, bided my time, and eventually I killed every single one of them for what they stole from me. All except Elijah - he was always my favorite, and my one act of mercy. But now he’s gone, too, and I am well and truly alone. So, you see, Stefan, why any talk of love and family does little to sway me in favor of humanity.”

Stefan stared at him for a long while, overcome with compassion for Klaus, what he’d lost, what he’d gone through. Finally, he reached a hand up to brush the tears off Klaus’s cheeks and, cupping Klaus’s face in his hand, declared, “I am so, so sorry, Klaus. I didn’t know.”

“How could you have?” Klaus asked with a sad, little smile, “You’re the only person I’ve ever told, and all the rest of them are long dead.”

Stefan paused a while, his hand still resting on Klaus’s cheek, before he ventured, “You know, it doesn’t have to be like that. Letting yourself feel things, letting your human side take the lead - it doesn’t have to hurt.”

“But that’s what being human is, Stefan,” Klaus insisted with a shake of his head, ‘It’s pain, pure and simple. There’s nothing in this world that lasts forever, and the second you let yourself love something, you’re just setting yourself up to get hurt when you lose it.”

“So it’s better to never love anything?” Stefan asked incredulously, “I don’t believe that, Klaus. And I don’t think you do, either, not really.”

“Where do you get it from, Stefan?” Klaus asked quietly, “All this hope?”

“There are people out there who love me,” Stefan said simply. “I get it from them.”

Klaus looked at him curiously, then said, “Don’t think I’m not grateful for everything you’ve done for me, Stefan - because I am, very - but I have to ask: why the hell are you sitting here with me in the dark instead of out living your life with them?”

Stefan looked into Klaus’s eyes, absently noticing how the extraordinary blue of his irises was only intensified by the thin film of water still hovering over them, and, in lieu of a verbal response, crossed the small distance between them and laid his lips softly on Klaus’s. The impact of the kiss was minimal - it lasted barely a few seconds - but Stefan could practically feel the air around them crackle and burn.

When Stefan withdrew, Klaus started, “Stefan...” but cut himself off, as if unsure how to proceed.

“This doesn’t have to be complicated,” Stefan said patiently. “Just answer one question honestly - do you want me?”

“I’ve wanted you since the day I met you,” Klaus responded sincerely, “That’s not the point. You shouldn’t want me!”

“Now, isn’t that up to me?” Stefan asked patiently, giving Klaus a completely inscrutable smile.

“But you and Elena...” Klaus objected again.

“Had an expiration date from the beginning,” Stefan finished with a little sigh. “I realize that now. She deserves the kind of normal life she’s always wanted, the kind I just can’t give her. Better to break it off now than in twenty years, or sixty, when it’s too late for her to build a real life with somebody.”

Klaus absorbed this new information thoughtfully, then shook his head and said exasperatedly, “Come on, I’m no good for you, Stefan. I destroy everything I touch. I blackmailed you into coming with me because I wanted to destroy you, for God’s sake!”

“No, you didn’t,” Stefan said simply.

“What do you mean I didn’t?” Klaus exclaimed. “I think I know what I did and did not do, Stefan!”

“You didn’t choose me because you wanted to ruin me,” Stefan explained, continuing before Klaus could protest, “Oh, I’m sure you think you did, but I assure you, you’re quite wrong. You chose me because, deep down, some part of you hoped there might be a chance that I could actually see through your bullshit. And that maybe, just maybe, I could save you from yourself.”

Klaus looked at him for a few moments, then, in one swift move, Stefan found himself pinned back on the faded quilt with Klaus staring down at him, his expression distinctly amused as he said, “You think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you?”

Stefan shoved up on Klaus’s chest just hard enough to flip him swiftly onto his back as he rolled on top of him and murmured, “Damn right I do. Now, I believe you said something about wanting me?”

Klaus then gave him a smile so genuine that it made Stefan’s stomach do strange, little flips without his bidding and said, “Yes, I believe I did.”

Stefan brought his face mere centimeters from Klaus’s before whispering, “Then I’m yours.”

Klaus didn’t need to be told twice.   
\--------------------

Three hours and several rounds of what Stefan would legitimately classify as mind-blowing sex later, Stefan was just drifting very comfortably off to sleep, when Klaus suddenly shook him by the shoulders, whispering loudly, “Stefan, Stefan!”

“Mmm...stop it...sleeping...” Stefan mumbled as he tried unsuccessfully to snuggle closer to Klaus, letting out a little yelp when the other man sat bolt upright and sent Stefan tumbling face-first into the covers.

Stefan was just preparing to give Klaus a whack on the arm when he noticed him pointing animatedly at something. He followed the line of Klaus’s finger and was shocked to discover a stream of fiery letters slowing scrolling across the wall opposite them.

Stefan pivoted and sat up next to Klaus, who began reading them aloud as they appeared: “Boys - I know where to find the coven, but we must leave at once. I’ll be round to fetch you at dawn, so be ready. - J”

Stefan was just about to comment when another stream of letters began, and Klaus let out a slightly shocked laugh before he read, “P.S. I’m sure you boys have been taking full advantage of the private time, but you might want to get some actual sleep, as we are fighting evil in the morning.”

“But...what...how...?” Stefan sputtered, still a bit sleepy and utterly confused

“She did say she’d send us a message,” Klaus reminded Stefan wryly.

“How did she know?” Stefan asked, turning to him in amazement.

“Well, for one thing, she is a powerful witch,” Klaus said seriously, as if truly considering the problem, “And for another...she has eyes. I highly doubt we were being as subtle as we thought we were.”

Stefan gave him a grin and replied, “Probably not. As it is, I’d say she’s right about the sleep thing - as in, we should get some.”

“She is right an infuriating amount of the time,” Klaus admitted with a little sigh as he lay back down on the bed, extending his arm so Stefan could duck under it and settle himself on his chest.

Stefan did so gladly, and when they had been silent for a few moments, he ventured, “Klaus?”

“Mmmm?” Klaus mumbled sleepily, absently stroking Stefan’s hair.

“What happens if we can’t get your powers back tomorrow?” Stefan asked.

Klaus stopped stroking for a moment as he said quietly, “I don’t know, Stefan. I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Yes,” said Stefan thoughtfully, scooting up slightly to nestle his head in the crook of Klaus’s neck, “I suppose we will.”


	5. Free Man in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Klaus, Jacqueline, and an injured Stefan head into the final battle, Klaus makes an impossible decision and gets the surprise of a lifetime.

From his position leaning on the stonework of one of Paris’s many bridges, Stefan watched the sun just begin to spill its soft, orange light over the Seine; he heaved a little sigh full of both worry and contentment.

“There are few things in the world more beautiful than a Parisian sunrise,” came a soft voice from behind his left shoulder, and by this time Stefan had no need to turn around to know that it was Klaus.

He did not respond, but instead leaned slowly away from the bridge until he felt Klaus’s solid build pressing against his back. In response, Klaus wrapped his arms around Stefan’s waist and twisted his head around to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

“Mmm, you taste like blood,” Stefan observed, adding after a few seconds, “and...chocolate. How’d you manage that one?”

Klaus repiled with a smile, “Although I cannot drink from humans, some of my other tricks have fortunately remained intact. There is a butcher shop conveniently located a couple blocks from here whose owner found me most...compelling.”

Stefan laughed, more at the idea of Klaus taking the time to think up a pun than at the actual joke, and added, “And the chocolate?”

“Ah,” Klaus continued with a twinkle in his eye, “As it turns out, his wife owned the bakery next door. She, too, was more than happy to help a poor, hungry boy in need of breakfast. Which brings me to these,” he finished as he whipped out a small paper bag with a flourish and handed it to Stefan.

Stefan peeked in the bag and was delighted to find two chocolate croissants delicately wrapped in wax paper nestled inside. He reached up to give Klaus a quick peck on the lips and said, “You spoil me, Klaus - these look decadent.”

“Well...” Klaus trailed off, and if he hadn’t known better, Stefan would have sworn he looked a little embarrassed. They stood there like that for a little while, chatting and eating their croissants while the morning sun lit up the river.

The stillness of the scene was stirred by a sudden whooshing sound, and when both Klaus and Stefan turned to look, they were moderately astonished to see Jacqueline standing there, arms crossed and toe tapping impatiently, though her expression was one of barely concealed amusement.

“Just like men - slacking off while the women do all the work,” she said dryly.

“Croissant?” Stefan asked, offering her the bag as a makeshift peace offering.

She took it, and her lips quirked up into a little smile as she asked, “And don’t you two look cozy this morning? From the looks of it, you did not heed my advice about the sleeping.”

Klaus ignored this and after a minute asked simply, “So it’s time, then?”

“Mais oui,” Jacqueline responded, her smile fading a bit.

Klaus sighed and slid out from behind Stefan, his hand sliding slowly along Stefan’s back before he broke contact all together.

“Before we go, I need to know,” Jacqueline began, her expression becoming completely serious. “Are you both sure you want to go through with this? I can’t promise we’ll all come out of it intact.”

“Yes,” Stefan said immediately, causing Klaus to glance at him in surprise. “Malachi is too powerful - he has to be stopped, no matter what the cost.”

“I’m in, too,” Klaus agreed. “If there’s a chance these witches can change me back, I have to take it.”

“All right, then,” Jacqueline said with a little nod. “We should go, then. Come with me.”

She beckoned them into a nearby alley and commanded, “Join hands and concentrate. I’m going to invoke them.”

Klaus and Stefan exchanged uneasy glances, but did as she said.

Suddenly, Jacqueline’s head whipped back, her hands clenched around each of theirs and she began chanting over and over, softly at first, then at increasing volume, “Vos voco, sorores noctis, audite mihi!”

“Latin,” Klaus whispered, answering the unspoken question signaled by Stefan’s confused expression, “She calls forth the sisters of the night and demands that they listen to her.”

Jacqueline continued to chant until a cloud of green smoke engulfed them all; Stefan instinctively raised his hands to cough, and the instant he broke contact with Klaus and Jacqueline, his world began spinning uncontrollably, as everything became shrouded emerald green mist.

Suddenly, he was overcome with an uncontrollable sensation of flying through the air as the green of the mist changed into blue sky; but the elation of flying was swiftly replaced first by the panic of falling, and then by the pain of crashing into something at terminal velocity, which Stefan vaguely remembered thinking was some sort of tree before he blacked out all together.

The next thing Stefan registered was pain - a lot of it and everywhere. Every bone in his body seemed to be giving off a pulsating ache, and even opening his eyes required expending an above average amount of effort.

When he carefully did so, the first thing to come into focus was Klaus hovering above him, looking more concerned than Stefan had ever seen him.

"Stefan? Stefan? Jacqueline, I think he's waking up."

“What-?” Stefan began as he tried to sit up, but was stopped by both the stabbing sensation just behind his temples and Klaus’s firm hand on his chest gently pushing him back down again.

“Take it slow, Stef,” Klaus said, making sure to catch Stefan’s eye, “You took a hell of a beating.”

"What the hell was that?" Stefan mumbled. “I feel like I got hit by a semi.”

"My deepest apologies, my friend," Jacqueline said sincerely, kneeling beside Klaus. "I had no idea that would happen; my source in Marseilles said it was a simple invocation and locator spell, I swear.”

“What exactly did happen?” Stefan asked. As he gingerly attempted to raise himself up a few inches, he was surprised to find his shoulders being pressed against something solid, and, upon looking up, was even more surprised to see that it was Klaus.

“You got in a fight with a pine tree and lost,” Klaus said with a little smile that didn’t hide the worry beneath it.

“You must have let go while we were being transported,” Jacqueline explained, “So, while Klaus and I landed relatively easily in this open clearing, you spun off and crashed into that pine tree over there - we saw you hit nearly every branch on your way down.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Stefan said, managing to push himself so that he was sitting up all the way, Klaus’s strong form still anchoring him in place. “Remind me to never do that again, will you?”

“I’m hoping it won’t become a recurring problem,” Klaus said dryly, arching an eyebrow. “Now, let’s see, can you stand?”

“I think so,” Stefan said, though this may have been mostly mindless optimism talking. In a flash, Klaus was on his feet and using both hands to gently lift Stefan into a standing position.

Stefan was dismayed to find out that his bruised and battered legs did not want to support him on their own, and he instinctively threw his arms around Klaus’s neck to keep from falling over.

Klaus quickly clamped his own arms around Stefan’s waist in response, tight enough to take the pressure off his legs, but loose enough not to press too painfully against the bruising on his torso.

“Where the hell are we, anyways?” Klaus asked Jacqueline, “Do we even know if it’s still France?”

“It is irrelevant,” Jacqueline said quietly. “The Sisters would not risk a meeting in a location that could be discovered by uninformed parties. Wherever we are, we can be sure it is magically protected, and it is quite possible that we are the only ones for miles around.”

“Now that they’ve got us here, why don’t they show themselves?” Stefan asked, partially to his companions, partially to anyone else who might be listening.

“I do not know,” Jacqueline said hesitantly, her eyes sweeping around the clearing. “Perhaps they have some sort of...test in mind for us.”

“Or they get their kicks watching us squirm,” Klaus said dryly. “It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, would it, ladies?” He raised his voice and whipped his head around, while still maintaining his hold on Stefan, as if hoping to bait any observers into showing themselves.

“Well, if there is a test, it may well be one of physical combat,” Stefan reasoned. “We should find cover before they decide to sic some sort of magical beast on us.”

“I agree,” said Jacqueline with a curt nod. “I think I see a ridge in the distance by that giant oak tree; it looks like we can hide behind it and still have a pretty good view of the whole area.”

“Okay, Stefan, time to try walking. Are you up for it?” Klaus asked, his voice intense, but encouraging.

Stefan gave him a brief nod and closed his eyes, trying to brace himself for the pain he knew would come. After making his grip on Klaus’s neck even more vise-like, he attempted to take a step. To his relief, it was at least possible, and with his body leaning heavily against Klaus’, and Klaus using his hold on Stefan’s waist to make the pressure on his legs next to nothing, they managed to find a shaky rhythm as all three of them made their way slowly toward the oak tree.

As they neared their goal, Jacqueline’s head suddenly snapped up, and she held up a hand signaling them to stop. Stefan’s blood ran cold as he realized that, though all three of them had stopped walking, the sound of footsteps and the rustling of branches had not ceased. In fact, whoever was making the noises seemed to be picking up speed.

Jacqueline flicked her wrist a little and shot them both meaningful looks, and they all began to move forward very slowly, each scanning their surroundings for some sign of who was following them.

Finally, out of the growing darkness among the trees, several sets of glowing, yellow eyes became visible. Klaus instinctively manuevered so that Stefan was situated between himself and Jacqueline, but as more and more sets of eyes appeared all around them, it became very apparent that the gesture was meaningless.

“Wolves,” Klaus said grimly. “What do we do?” He looked toward Jacqueline, who herself seemed very troubled at this disturbing turn of events.

“If we can take some of them out in one direction, we might be able to run long enough to find a place to hide,” she whispered back.

Stefan began to speak, to tell them that they’d have a much better chance of making it without him dragging them down, but was interrupted in his train of thought by Klaus suddenly stating, “No.”

“Klaus, what do you-”

“No, Stefan,” Klaus whispered fiercely, and when Klaus turned his head to look at him, Stefan was a little shocked to see just how serious he was. “We are not leaving you behind, and I don’t want to hear about it. No arguments.”

Stefan could see that Klaus wasn’t backing down, and since he figured that being surrounded by possibly enchanted wolves wasn’t the best time to have an argument, he said no more about it.

“Jacqueline, can you run in front and fend some of them off with magic?” Klaus asked quickly.

“I think so,” she said with a brusque nod, though her eyes never left the ever-approaching circle of predators.

“Good. On the count of three, we run for it. I’ll do the best I can to maintain the back, and if we’re very, very lucky, we can break their ranks.”

“One...” Jacqueline began, raising her hands.

“Two...” Klaus continued, sending a look at Stefan that clearly stated, “Get ready to move.”

“Three!” The second both had shouted the syllable, the world exploded in color and movement. Jacqueline was shouting something in a language Stefan did not understand, and balls of blue fire spun forth from her fingertips and sent wolves flying in all directions.

Klaus, meanwhile, was half-dragging, half-carrying him into the path cleared by Jacqueline, warding off any stray wolves with the hand that wasn’t holding Stefan up.

Somehow, between Jacqueline’s magic and Klaus’s determined force, they managed to leave the wolves behind, and found themselves in another clearing, not too far from where they started and still in sight of the oak.

“Everyone all right?” Klaus asked hurriedly, and after receiving a nod from an out-of-breath Jacqueline, he turned his attention to Stefan.

Stefan felt like he had managed to smash every bruise on his body against something in the last twenty minutes, and though he knew that he was lucky to even be alive - sort of - that didn’t make the omnipresent ache he felt any less agonizing.

“All good over here,” Stefan mumbled, hoping that his voice wasn’t shaky enough to make Klaus question his statement.

The look Klaus gave him was troubled to say the least, but finally he nodded and turned to Jacqueline, asking, “Should we still keep heading toward the oak tree?”

“It’s as good a destination as any at this point,” she reasoned. “Obviously they can get to us wherever we are, so we might as well go somewhere that’s at least defensible.

“You’re sure you’re all right to travel, Stefan?” Klaus asked him doubtfully.

“Really, I’m fine, Klaus, let’s just keep going,” Stefan insisted. He refused to let his weakness put them in any more danger.

“All right,” Klaus said, though he still seemed a bit uncertain as they stumbled their way through the last of the forest toward the wide open expanse stretching all the way to the oak tree.

They had made it halfway across the field - Klaus holding Stefan up, Jacqueline constantly searching the horizon for more incoming attacks - when out of nowhere, the sky grew dark with storm clouds. The three of them had only just begun to look for any sort of shelter when a huge crash of thunder echoed throughout the field and lightning began shooting down from the skies.

The second the bolts struck, the brush littering the ground behind them sparked and burned. The three of them watched, transfixed and horrified, as a sudden gust of wind whipped the fire into a frenzy; in a matter of seconds, it had spread down the field and was moving towards them.

“Run!” screamed Jacqueline, and she was off, her skirts flapping wildly behind her as she darted for the safety of the ridge.

“Come on,” Klaus shouted urgently to Stefan, as he tried to drag Stefan away from the fire.

“Klaus, I - I can’t,” Stefan mumbled, dropping to the ground. All of his limbs were screaming from the injuries they’d already sustained, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he couldn’t make it any farther, let alone at the speed necessary to outrun the fire.

“Yes, you can!” Klaus urged him, trying to no avail, to pull Stefan up from where he lay curled up on the ground.

“It’s no use,” Stefan said quietly. “I’ve been running on borrowed energy for a while now, and I can’t do it anymore. But it’s not too late for you, Klaus. You can make it - just leave me. It’s all right, really, it is.”

“It is not all right, damn it!” Klaus shouted, dropping to his knees beside Stefan. “I wouldn’t be a free man right now if it weren’t for you.”

““Please, you have to let me go,” Stefan pleaded, “There is nothing more you can do for me.”

“Look at me, Stefan.” Klaus took Stefan’s face in his hands and Stefan could see he was completely in earnest as he said, “I am not, I repeat, not leaving you here.”

“But you’ll burn! You’ll die!” Stefan was panicking at the thought of Klaus’s death being his fault.

“Then we burn together,” Klaus said, his voice rife with fierce determination. “Come here,” he said, more quietly this time, and Stefan managed to prop himself up enough to lay his head on Klaus’s shoulder.

“God damn it, this isn’t his fight,” Klaus shouted to the stormy sky as he wrapped his arms around Stefan. “He was just trying to do the right thing - it’s me you want! Me! And you can have me, I won’t fight, just leave him alone! Do you hear me? Leave...him...alone!”

Suddenly, a stream of white light shot out of the oak tree and encompassed the entire field. To Klaus’s utter shock, he found himself once again standing on the small stone bridge across from Jacqueline’s shop, the Seine flowing peacefully beneath him.

“You were right this morning - there are few things more beautiful than a Parisian sunrise. But, in my opinion, a Parisian sunset is one of them.”

Klaus recognized the voice immediately, but shook his head and told himself it was impossible. It just couldn’t be.

But when he got up the courage to slowly turn to his right, he saw that his first instinct had been correct. It was Jacqueline, just standing there on the bridge with a calm, little smile on her face.

His head was spinning with questions, but somehow the first one that came out was, “How do you know I said that? You weren’t there.”

“Haven’t you learned by now, Klaus?” she asked, looking a little amused. “We are everywhere.”

“We?” Klaus asked, his confusion undermined by a little voice in his head telling him he was asking questions to which he already knew the answers.

“My God,” he said suddenly as the realization hit him all at once. “You’re one of the Sisters. This whole thing was a setup from the beginning.”

Her smile did not waver as she replied simply, “Yes. Although calling it a setup is perhaps a bit too simplistic.”

“Wait a second,” he said, the shock of this new information wearing off enough for him to demand, “Where’s Stefan? What have you done with him?”

“Stefan is perfectly fine,” she assured him. “In fact, he is a good deal better off than when you left him, albeit somewhat perplexed. You can fill him in on the finer points when you get back.”

“Back? Wait, you’re letting me go back?”

“You passed,” Jacqueline said, with a little shrug. “The other Sisters told me that it was impossible, but you did it - you proved them wrong.”

“You’re telling me this was all some sort of test?” Klaus’s mind spun trying to decipher all the potential implications of Jacqueline’s revelation. “Exactly how long have you been...evaluating me in this manner?”

“Oh, quite a long time indeed, Klaus,” Jacqueline replied, strolling over to lean beside him on the bridge. “From the day you were born, in fact. We put that binding spell on your werewolf side, but we knew it was only a temporary measure; one day you would feel compelled to break it, and then far too great a power would be unleashed upon the world.”

“So you set up a test...of what exactly? And, come to think of it, why? What possible reason could you have for putting me through all this?”

“The others just wanted to kill you,” Jacqueline said matter-of-factly, “when we convened our council, the day you broke the curse. They thought you were a monstrosity with no hope of redemption. But I thought I’d seen something in you, a spark of humanity still left beneath all the anger and violence. So I asked them to give me three months - three months to see if you could prove that you deserved to be saved.”

She leaned closer and said severely, “So you’d better thank whatever gods you happen to believe in that I decided to “put you through all this” instead of just dumping your body in that storage unit with the rest of your ‘family’.”

Klaus was silent for a moment before he uttered quietly, “Thank you - it appears I owe you my life.”

Before Jacqueline could reply, something occurred to Klaus which sent a chill through his body. “Wait, are you saying that Stefan-”

Jacqueline quickly waved her hand and finished for him, “Knew nothing of any of this. He was as unwitting a participant as you were.”

Klaus let out a sigh of relief, and Jacqueline continued, “But I’ll tell you this - he was the only reason I asked for the three months in the first place. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you picking him as your companion meant that your human side was reaching out.”

“I’d hoped that just having Stefan around would be enough to make you change, but you wasted the first month trying to make him as miserable as you were instead of learning from him. So I was forced to intervene.”

“Intervene?” Klaus asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“I knew that sooner or later Stefan would seek out some paranormal assistance for his growing feelings for you, so I made myself available to him. The rest was simple.”

“Simple?” Klaus asked incredulously. “I think we have different definitions of the word. Wait, and Malachi...?” Klaus ventured.

“Just a means to an end,” Jacqueline said with a little smile. “As much a convenient plot device as an underground chamber in a magic shop or a conveniently timed trip to Marseilles.”

“You knew!” Klaus exclaimed, “That night we slept together, you knew that would happen!”

“Yes,” Jacqueline said with an amused smile, “But certainly not because of any magical powers I happen to possess.”

“So you didn’t-, I mean it wasn’t your-” Klaus trailed off.

“Klaus,” Jacqueline said earnestly, “The test wouldn’t have meant anything if I’d made either of you do anything. I simply created the scenarios - the choices you made and the feelings that prompted them were entirely your own.”

“And I passed?”

“You cared enough about Stefan to refuse to abandon him. You even offerred us your life in exchange for his. The kind of man who would do that is the kind of man we consider worth saving.”

Klaus thought about this for a long while, as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, filling the Seine with a warm, orange-pink glow.

“So what happens now?” he asked quietly.

“Now,” Jacqueline said slowly, “You go and live a life. We’ll give you some of your powers back, although we still can’t allow you to maintain your full hybrid powers.”

“That’s all right,” Klaus said with a laugh, “I can’t say they ever did me much good. But you, where will you go?”

“Oh, I’ll be around,” Jacqueline said, her smile becoming a little mischeivous. “I have no doubt we’ll cross paths again someday, Klaus. Just see to it that it’s not under similar circumstances, all right?”

“I think I can manage that.” Klaus reached forward and took Jacqueline’s hand, gallantly lifting it to his lips. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

Her smile became a full grin as she said, “You’re welcome, Klaus. And now, I think it’s time to take you back to someone else who believes in you.” With a little wink, she vanished, and Klaus found himself standing once more in the same field, although the storm clouds had long since vanished and the ground showed no signs of being scorched.

“Klaus!” He whirled around to see Stefan running towards him and he felt his face break into a grin as he sprinted off toward him. They met halfway, and Klaus exuberantly picked Stefan up and whirled him around in a circle.

Stefan laughed and held tight to Klaus until he felt his feet on the ground again. Before Stefan could ask what had happened or where Klaus had been, Klaus pressed their lips together, kissing him exuberantly.

Stefan was too relieved to object in the least to this turn of events, but after a few minutes, he forced himself to break the kiss and ask, “What happened? One minute we’re about to be burned alive by a raging inferno, the next you’re gone, I’m magically healed, and there’s no sign of Jacqueline or the fire anywhere.”

Klaus laughed and kissed him briefly once more before saying, “It is a very long story, which I will tell you soon enough. But for now, trust me when I say that everything is fine. No, I’m amending that - not fine, wonderful! For the first time in a thousand years, everything is completely wonderful.”

Stefan couldn’t help but grin as he said, “Klaus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. You seem almost...giddy.”

“Oh, I am, dear boy, I am,” Klaus assured him as he whirled around in a circle, arms outstretched. “I feel like Ebeneezer Scrooge on that fateful Christmas morning.”

“Well, whatever it is, I like it,” Stefan decided, laughing again and throwing his arms around Klaus’s neck. “Umm...not to bring you down or anything, but we have no idea where we are.”

“Where would you like to be, Stefan?” Klaus asked eagerly, “If you could be anywhere in the whole wide world right now, where you go?”

Stefan considered for a moment and then responded, “Well, I’ve always wanted to see Rome...”

“Jacqueline!” Klaus called out to the heavens, “Could we have a lift please? Last favor, I swear!”

“Klaus, what on earth-?” Stefan began, but abruptly stopped talking as the field disappeared right before his eyes, to be replaced by the lobby of a fancy hotel.

“Signori?” the desk clerk inquired pleasantly. “Your room is ready. Please enjoy your stay at the Hotel Cosmopolita.”

“Mille grazie,” Klaus said joyfully, taking the proffered key before grabbing Stefan by the hand and leading him to the stairs.

“I don’t understand any of this!” Stefan shouted as Klaus pulled him up three flights of stairs and down a hallway until they reached the room, at which point Klaus quickly inserted the key into the lock and threw open the door.

“Stefan, we have a balcony!” Klaus shouted as he raced to open the French doors. “My God, look at that view!”

Stefan was about to ask him once again for some sort of explanation, but one look at Rome sprawling out beneath their balcony rendered him only able to say, “Wow.”

“Is it how you dreamed it would be?” Klaus asked, somewhat more calmly, as he slipped an arm around Stefan’s waist.

“It’s amazing,” Stefan answered truthfully. “Is it real?”

“Oh yes,” Klaus assured him. “As real as it gets.”

“But Klaus,” Stefan said, exasperated, “How did we- I mean who-?”

“I’ll explain it all in a minute,” Klaus promised. “But first, kiss me.”

“Kiss you?” Stefan asked a bit impishly as he pivoted to wind his arms around Klaus’s neck.

“Yes,” Klaus said simply, “Kiss me because we survived. Kiss me because one of the most fascinating cities in the world is ours for the taking. Kiss me because I love you, Stefan Salvatore.”

“Those do seem as good of reasons as any,” Stefan agreed, leaning in closer, “But that’s not why I’m going to kiss you.”

“Why, then?” Klaus asked curiously.

“Because, perhaps against my better judgement, I love you, too,” Stefan said simply, and silenced whatever comeback Klaus would have come up with by lowering his lips to his. Yes, Stefan was a bit stunned to realize, as Klaus maneuvered him back toward their luxurious double bed, Klaus was right: for the first time in a long time, everything really was wonderful.


End file.
